castle_perrault | what use is a present if you just leave it to look pretty

Entry tags:

undertale

what use is a present if you just leave it to look pretty

For all the time they've been at the castle, Frisk's never really hung around the Edge.

What would the point be? There's a lot more inside, where the rooms are ever-shifting, and the gardens are always full of sunlight and only a few clouds high above. If they really wanted to watch clouds moving, they could just go into one of the towers or higher halls and watch out the windows.

...and the Edge was a reminder that the castle's all there really is, and they don't...like thinking about that all the time.

But now that they've been guiding newcomers there to prove yes, this is all real, they've realized...it's not bad out there. It's beautiful, seeing the clouds close up like that, and the grass is comfortable, and the wind is nice against their face, even if it's kind of cold. And that last bit is helpful in another way, too--

High above the Edge, maybe even visible from the castle's other towers and the gardens, a red kite flies--after several attempts, almost staying in the air before falling out of sight again, once, twice, three time, four...eighth time's the charm. It's Frisk's gift from Serif and S-4, with its kitty face, though that's impossible to see from so far below.

Frisk themselves is just sitting cross-legged in the grass, holding onto the kite's spool tightly, watching it disappear and reappear with the clouds' movements.

They hadn't thought about how that would telegraph exactly where they are, but that's fine. They won't mind if people come to keep them company.

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They definitely got a sense of that from Kotetsu. He feels...young, somehow.

"Yeah. Haven't crashed it, always got to catch it before it hit the ground when it doesn't work."

Frisk pauses, humming a few notes.

"...d'you want a turn?"

"Hm?"

He looks back over, and when he realizes what Frisk is asking, quickly shakes his head, trying not to feel too flustered.

"Oh, no! I'm fine. It's your kite. You should enjoy it. Besides, I'm a little old to be playing with a kite."

"Yeah, it is. An' I'd be mad if you broke it 'cause it was a present. But if you know how to do it, you wouldn't." Frisk shifts, un-crossing their legs to leave them splayed. "You don't gotta. But. It's fun." And age doesn't have anything to do with it.

"It was a present? From who?"

Maybe it was a family member they mentioned here. Though, now that he thinks about it, it didn't sound like they had any human parents... his brow furrows.

"Maybe later. You enjoy it for now."

Frisk brightens up immediately. "Papyrus an' Serif! They're a couple of the skeletons I told you 'bout. Papyrus is the tallest and Serif's the shortest--Serif's taller than me now, though, just a little." They lift the kite's spool slightly above their head, indicating how much more. "They drew a cat face on it, too. It's cute! I'll show you it later."

...Fair enough. They're looking like they're enjoying it more thanks to the reminder where it came from.

"Papyrus and Serif." He's trying not to laugh at the idea that these two were apparently named like fonts on his laptop. "They sound like they're very good friends of yours to make this just for you."

They must be children, like Frisk, and he tries not to let that bother him. They aren't... actually dead children, surely.

"They are. Family," they tell him again, expression going from bright grin to something a little more...awed, maybe.

Family. What a weird concept. Frisk's still honored they reached out and allowed that--wanted that, after knowing each other so well, and improving their connections with Sans. A human. Someone they were made to kill--and that reminder slips their expression into a scowl until they remind themselves it's fine. It's fine now. They're here again.

Barnaby's expression, on the other hand, is a little sadder. It's... still sinking in that he's lost all his family. His caretaker was killed just a few weeks ago. And Maverick has lost all right to be called anything like a father.

Still, he wants to be happy for them. He smiles gently at them, glad they at least were able to find a family.

"You're very lucky to have them. Especially since you have them here."

"...yeah. I'm glad they're here. 'D be glad they're here even if I wasn't, though."

Frisk starts reeling the kite in a little. Is...is that the right word? They're not sure.

"...'m sorry. If you're missing people."

"Ah... no, I'm not exactly. I don't... actually have any family who's still alive. I doubt they'd be able to come here, and I don't really think I'd want them to."

He squeezes his hands together in some attempt to keep him grounded despite what the conversation has turned to.

That...is not the answer they expected. Frisk ducks their head a little.

"Oh." They hesitate, since, well...they have Toriel and Asgore and everyone, but they've--they weren't family yet, even if they're missing Frisk...and Frisk doesn't miss them nearly as much as they used to.

So it feels...sort of safe to nod, quietly, and respond with "Me neither."

"...I'm sorry."

He doesn't know what else to say to that. He wishes Frisk hadn't had to suffer losing family members at such a young age. He would say the same happened to him, but he highly doubts that will actually help.

So instead he says, "I'm sure they miss you."

"You don't--" have to be.

Really. He doesn't.

Frisk tries to see the best in people. They work past flaws and forgive so, so much, because everyone's worth forgiving.

But Frisk didn't exist before Mt. Ebott. Another child did, with a different name and a different story. And that child was not quite as determined to love.

I don't think so.

They stop reeling in the kite.

"...maybe."

He... isn't sure what he said wrong. All he knows is Frisk is still and quiet, suddenly much less comfortable than they were even when they began this conversation. He wants to apologize again, but it seems Frisk doesn't really enjoy that.

So... empathy may help.

"I understand how you feel."

Not being sure whether your family actually misses you, he means. He has a feeling he has doubts about it for very different reasons than Frisk, but at least if he shows they have some similarities, maybe they won't feel so bad.

Does he really.

Frisk's...a little cold, weirdly. More cold than they were just from being near the edge, where the winds are the most.

"Dunno. Maybe my dad does. If he can." They barely realize they're talking. "He...died a long time ago. Was three or four, I guess. Don't remember him. Pretty sure Mom loved him a lot, though."

"Both of my parents... passed away when I was four as well."

He had always thought it'd be easier on him if just one of his parents had survived... but he can't be sure. He's certainly not going to downplay what Frisk went through.

"I'm guessing your mother didn't take losing him well."

"...sorry. 'S...bad when you're little."

~~Why am I talking about this?~~

"No. She didn't. She...dunno. Maybe she was always...not really good at...being. A mom. Or that just messed her up. 'Cause she wasn't. A good mom. Or there. I never had babysitters, 'cause she didn't have money. And she worked far 'cross the city. I know she cared about me, sorta, 'cause she always left me lots of food an' told me to make up names for babysitters if somebody knocked an' how to ignore them, but she didn't come back all the time. Sometimes not after I went to bed, or when I got back after school the next day, or a few days."

He would say something about that, about how bad it was, but Frisk's story is more important to him right now. His heart stings with sympathy and honestly something like anger, knowing that Frisk's mother was never there.

There's another feeling in there too... something else Barnaby can't really place. Familiarity? He frowns softly.

"I'm sorry. You deserved a mother who could probably take care of you. Not one who left you alone that long. My parents were busy too, but... they made time for me."

At least, he thinks they did.

"That's good." And they mean it. Kids shouldn't be left alone like that. Frisk can't say they hated it--it just...was.

There's a long sense of silence after that. They could stop. End the story there. They don't want to tell anyone who never encountered Mt. Ebott and climbing it.

But there's just a little more.

"And then one day--last day of school, I came home, and she was gone. She didn't come back. And she knew she wouldn't. She left extra food. Might still be out there somewhere, actually. Found somewhere else to live. And forgot me."

They don't sound sad.

They don't sound anything.

...He doesn't know what to do about this.

He's never been good with comfort. Kotetsu has relied on him for a few things, but very rarely. All he had to do was give some advice, rarely give a hug or anything else. He's not good with touch. He wouldn't know how to comfort Frisk, would probably just make them feel awkward.

But he recognizes the empty tone of their voice. He knows what's happening, that disconnect from the present. Slowly, he reaches out, places a hand on their shoulder. Just to keep them grounded.

"...That's not fair to you. I don't know what made her think she had to do that, but that's something that should never happen to a child. You deserved better than that."

He sighs softly. "You know, sometimes despite calling myself a hero, when I hear stories like this... I worry I'm not able to save anyone."

Their thoughts are filled with marking days on the calendar until that was too much, and watching the clock until it got dark, and so Barnaby's hand makes them jump. But it does its job, and they've been fond of touch, and they scoot towards him without reservation.

Frisk shakes their head, still staring off at the clouds. "No, 's not. But it happened. And it's not your fault when people do that, either."

He's a little surprised to have them scoot nearer to him, but even though his smile is shaky, he lets them lean on him, moving that arm to around their shoulders.

"I understand that it's what happened... I just wanted to say I'm sorry it happened either way."

He shakes his head.

"It's something I have to get into my head. Not taking the blame for everything. It... used to be typical for me." If he was told it was his fault, he accepted it without hesitation. And he knows that wasn't just because of his memories being altered, even if it's still hard to define what exactly made him believe all that.

It's practically a hug. Frisk moves one hand to hold the kite spool well and matches Barnaby, putting their arm across his back.

"'S okay. I'm here now. And you're here now. Stuff that happened here and to people here before the castle, you know, all that's definitely not your fault. And you've got time to remember that." Just like they said to Kotetsu to try helping.

Practically a hug, but not quite. Which is probably a good thing, seeing as how Barnaby still isn't very good at hugging people. He stays silent for a while, just thinking about... everything. There's no other word for what happened to Barnaby before coming here, especially when it encapsulates most of his life.

He knows it's not his fault. Or he should know. He isn't sure why he's so used to taking the blame at first. Was it just because he used to be a hero? He tries to think back to the things he considers he's to blame for.

The death of his parents. Kotetsu's being framed as a criminal. The androids that had been created to destroy them. The near-death of Kotetsu. Just the fact in general that Maverick turned on them...

And then he catches himself. Maverick. He was the one who had told him all of those things were his fault. And he had just accepted them because... because...

Why had he listened to someone who murdered everyone he ever cared about?

His breathing is getting a little faster. He feels dizzy and bends over slightly, as if the weight of realizing the manipulation he faced wasn't just related to his memories is crushing him.

He bends, and Frisk bends too, his arm pressing him down and their arm still staying against his back.

"...Barnaby?" (Asgore's breathing got funny--Sans is crying and so are they--) They twist their head up, trying to see his face. "Are you--what's the matter?"

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oh jesus i'm so sorry frisk

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